Better (Two Years) Late Than Never
by ReaOfSunshine
Summary: UPDATED - previously titled "The Palm Tree Picture" S13 finale spoilers! Post 13x24. Ziva survives the mortar fire, sends Tali to Tony, and then finds them in Paris.
**P** **REVIOUSLY TITLED "THE PALM TREE PICTURE"**

 **A** **N:** **Updated! I added my theory of how Ziva survived and changed some things later on as well.**

 **So that finale was effed up. None of the things that happened made sense to me – Ziva not telling Tony she was pregnant, for one. And of course I can't accept that Ziva is dead.** **But sadly, these things are canon because they happened on the show. So this is my attempt to keep everything that happened in the finale as fact but twist it around so that it makes sense to me. This is the roughest of rough drafts (except for the last part which was uploaded previously as "The Palm Tree Picture) and is basically word-vomit and most likely contains errors and grammar mistakes (God forbid, tbh) and out-of-character shenanigans (considering I haven't watched NCIS since season 9 because I was in college and too busy and never had time to catch up, and then Ziva left…) but here it is. I might continue and/or revise it if my little heart can take it and if inspiration strikes me later on.**

 **T** **L;DR: This ain't perfect, but it's all I got. Hope you like it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.**

 **Words: 4,020**

 ****** **FIVE** **DAYS PREVIOUSLY****

Ziva awoke, as she often did, to Tali's insistent voice calling for her from down the hallway. She let herself take a single moment to mourn a good night's rest and then swung her legs over the side of the bed. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and tapped the screen. It was just before midnight. She sighed and stuffed her phone into the waistband of her pants, not knowing how long she was going to be out of bed. Tali was getting much better at sleeping through the night but still often woke and called for her _ima_ , usually around this time, as she did tonight.

She took another moment to glance at the other side of her queen-sized bed. It was empty, as always, the covers still tucked neatly under the unused pillows. She thought of Tony, as always did whenever she woke up and got ready to live another day as a single mom. He was constantly on Ziva's mind. Whenever she woke up by herself (which was every day), whenever she took Tali to see a movie, whenever her daughter gave an impish smile and looked at her with Tony's eyes.

Ziva wished she had told Tony about Tali as soon as she realized she was pregnant. She had kept it to herself for several reasons that seemed perfectly logical at the time. Her mother had had a few miscarriages and Ziva had lived in fear for those nine months, praying that history wouldn't repeat itself. She hadn't wanted to tell Tony she was pregnant, have him leave the job he loved and move to Israel, just to witness her give birth to their lifeless child. If he _had_ been excited to be having a child with her and she either had a miscarriage or their child was stillborn, he would be completely devastated, and Ziva didn't want him to have to carry that burden along with her. If a miscarriage happened and he _hadn't_ been excited about the prospect of being a family in the first place (Ziva had told herself that wouldn't be the case, but the broken part of her – the part of her that lived in Somalia – still liked to argue) then he would feel obligated to stay with her, and she hadn't wanted that either.

And then Tali had been born, healthy and perfect, and Ziva had sobbed with relief and marveled at the way Tony's eyes had been perfectly copied into their daughter's face. No one was at the birth besides her old friend from Mossad, Ayala, who had held her hand and fed her ice chips as the pain seemed to splinter her body. Ziva had been tortured, beaten, imprisoned, and shot, but the pain of childbirth had still taken her breath away.

Ziva had taken Tali home, put her in her crib for the first time, and prepared to call Tony. She had stared at her phone for a solid hour, sitting in the rocking chair in Tali's nursery, trying to think of what to say. How to explain the fact that she hadn't told him she was pregnant, that he had a beautiful daughter, that she wanted to raise Tali with him and be family. Ziva wanted Tony to be by her side with Tali more than anything, but the guilt still ate away at her heart. She had let him go back to D.C. instead of listening to her heart and going back with him. What if he had moved on? What if he had a woman in his life, or was even married? Ziva knew she had made the wrong decision nine months ago, so she stared desperately at the phone in her hand, trying to gather the courage to make the right decision this time around. She was a former assassin, dammit, why did one phone call scare her so much?

She had ended up putting the phone away, promising herself that she would call him the next day.

And then the next day passed. And then a week. And a month. And now Tali was almost two years old, and Tony still didn't know he had a daughter, because Ziva had been too much of a coward to tell him. She had made an unforgivable mistake but she still couldn't bring herself to try and correct it. What could she do, call him up and tell him that he had a daughter that was already two years old?

She hated herself for it.

She was torn from her thoughts as she heard Tali call for her again and she quickly rose and walked the long hallway to her daughter. Ziva had finally stopped sleeping in the nursery with Tali several months ago but it was still difficult to be so far away from her, unable to be there in an instant if anything happened.

Ziva pushed the door to the nursery open and saw Tali sitting up in her crib, the blanket that "Aunt Ayala" had bought her abandoned on the tiny mattress. Tali was grinning at her, that impish grin that was so much like Tony's that Ziva's heart ached whenever she saw it.

"Tali," Ziva admonished, going to stand next to the crib and looking down at her daughter. "We have talked about this."

Tali just giggled and grabbed at Ziva's mussed curls as they fell over her shoulders. "Bored, bored!"

Ziva sighed. " _Tateleh_ , you cannot just refuse to go back to sleep because you think it is boring."

Unlike most children, Tali didn't cry in the middle of the night. She simply woke up and got bored if she didn't fall back asleep within a few minutes. Ziva didn't know what she expected from a combination of her and Tony, and she supposed it shouldn't surprise her, but it was exasperating. She wondered how Tony would deal with the situation, as she usually did whenever she was at a loss for what to do with Tali. _She should know her father. He should know his daughter._ Oh, what a mistake she had made.

Ziva picked up Tali from her crib and nestled her on her hip, running through the different lullabies that she had taken to singing to her daughter when she got like this.

And then she heard a mortar fire.

Despite not having been in the line of duty for almost three years, Ziva reacted as quickly as ever. She clutched Tali to her chest and dove for the space under the crib that was barely large enough to shelter them, keeping Tali underneath her so as to shield her with her body, before the first mortar even hit. She curled herself completely around Tali, singing a lullaby under her breath to try and calm her even as she pressed her palms over Tali's ears as the explosions tore through the front side of the house. Maybe the lullaby was to calm herself. She didn't know. Her heart was pounding and she felt Tali squirm as the floor shook and dust rained down from the ceiling. Who was doing this? Why now? How had they found her? Could she risk grabbing Tali and running through the back door, or did they have guns? _They were about to die._

Ziva rearranged herself so that she more fully shielded Tali. She might die, but she refused to let these demons harm her daughter.

The explosions continued, but none hit the nursery. As far as Ziva could tell, they were aimed towards her bedroom. Good. _Hurt me, but not my daughter,_ she thought _. Not our daughter._ They must be after her. For what reasons, though, she didn't know. But if they were trying to kill her…

If they survived this, Tali couldn't stay with her. She wouldn't be safe. Ziva grabbed the phone from her waistband and hit speed-dial number two. She hoped that Ayala wasn't on an undercover op tonight. Ziva didn't even try to speak and hoped that Ayala would simply see her name on the caller ID and drive straight to Ziva's house, knowing that Ziva would never call in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency.

And then the shaking stopped, and the explosions ceased. In the sudden quiet, Ziva heard the squeal of tires through her ringing ears. She tried to turn her head to look around the room, but the conditions were cramped. There was smoke, lots of smoke, and the air was uncomfortably hot. They had to get out of there. She couldn't let Tali breathe in the poisonous air.

She removed her hands from Tali's ears and uncurled herself from around the little girl's shaking body.

" _Ima! Ima?_ " Tali was in hysterics, her mischievous mood gone.

"Shh, my love, shh. Are you hurt?" She quickly glanced over Tali, saw no injuries, and quickly crawled out from under the crib using one arm, clutching Tali to her chest with the other

The room itself hadn't been hit by the explosions, but smoke had already filled the area, and flames were no doubt on their way. She didn't have much time. She thanked the stars that she had a bag already packed with essentials for Tali for a possible emergency – once an agent, always an agent. Ziva darted to the closet, grabbed the bag, and started towards the window when she registered what Tali was screaming.

"Kaylev! Kaylev!" Tali was twisting in her arms, sobbing, reaching for her crib.

Ziva glanced back and saw that the wall had already started to burn, but the crib was only a few feet away and she grabbed the stuffed dog and the blanket from Aunt Ayala. She also grabbed Tali's favorite picture of her and Tony that had been on the table next to Tali's crib – she wouldn't let Tali lose her favorite picture of her _abba_ – and stuffed it in her bag along with the toy dog. She put the blanket loosely over Tali's head, hoping to protect her from the smoke and dust, and ran for the window.

She easily kicked out the screen, even with a screaming child clutching a stuffed animal in her arms and a heavy bag slung across her back, and then maneuvered out the window, jumping to the ground (thankfully only a few feet) and bending her legs to absorb the impact and not jostle Tali too much.

Ziva grabbed the blanket over Tali's head and pulled it off as she ran from the house and towards the far end of the yard. She heard sirens in the distance, and prayed that Ayala would be her soon. She stopped at the edge of the woods that bordered the farmhouse property and fell to her knees, setting Tali down in front of her and wiping the girl's tears from her cheeks.

" _Tateleh_ , are you hurt? Where do you hurt?" Tali was still sobbing, almost hyperventilating, and Ziva began to sing to her again as she checked for injuries, trying to calm the both of them down. From what she could tell, Tali was fine, and she sobbed in relief. "You are okay, Tali, we are okay."

"Ziva?"

Ziva pulled Tali in her arms again and turned to see Ayala, holding a gun in each hand and with a fiery look on her face.

Ziva and Ayala had been friends since her late Mossad days. Ayala was a few years younger than Ziva and was still an officer. She had spent the last four months infiltrating a possbile terrorist group in the Tel Aviv, but the two kept in touch, and Ayala absolutely adored Tali.

Ayala rushed to them and knelt beside Ziva, tucking her guns into her holsters. "Ziva, are you okay? Is Tali?" Ziva nodded wordlessly, despite the fact that she hadn't actually checked herself for injuries. That didn't matter now. Ayala quickly pushed on. "What happened? Who did this?"

Still cradling Tali, Ziva said, "Mortar fire. I do not know from whom. They are far gone now."

"Why are they after you?"

"I do not know, but Ayala, you must take Tali. Someone is trying to kill me and you are the only person I trust."

Ayala looked absolutely horrified. "Ziva, I can't! I'm flying out tomorrow to Cairo on assignment! I'm the only one who can, I've been working undercover for months!"

"She cannot stay with me!" Ziva was almost hysterical now, but she tried to breathe deeply. She couldn't afford to let Tali know how scared she was. Her daughter was now hiccuping against her chest, but her sobs had stopped, and Ziva's heart ached for her. Tali was only two years old and now had already survived an assassination attempt. Ziva had meant to protect her from all of this, to never let her see any remnant of her killing days, but she had failed."I do not trust anyone else to watch over her!"

"Orli?"

"She is director of Mossad, she cannot watch a child." Ziva desperately tried to think of another possibility.

"Ziva, what about her father?" Ayala looked at Ziva with wide eyes.

"Tony does not even know about her! I cannot–" and then, Ziva heard the sirens and blades of a helicopter. Did she have any other options? She looked desperately at Ayala. Tony was truly the only other person that Tali would be safe with. She made a split second decision. She might be about to throw his life into chaos, but she had to keep Tali safe. "Ayala, take Tali to the hospital. Make sure she is okay. Then bring her to Orli and tell her to take Tali to NCIS, to her father. Tell Orli that you got a phone call from me but arrived in time only to save Tali and grab a few belongings. Tell them that I am dead."

" _What_? Ziva–"

" _Please,_ " Ziva pleaded. "It is the only way. She will never be safe with me if someone is trying to kill me, and considering they used mortars, I think they are pretty dedicated to ending my life. They will most likely only stop if I am dead, and so they must believe that I am."

" _Ima_!" Tali was pulling at Ziva's hair. She understood the desperate and fearful notes in her mother's voice and it must be frightening her.

"Shh, _tateleh_ , you are safe." Ziva turned back to Ayala. "Please. Once NCIS has caught the person that did this, I will contact Tony and get Tali."

"How do you know they will catch them? And if everyone is supposed to think that you are dead, how will you contact Tony?"

Ziva glanced over Tali's head at the emergency bag she had grabbed. The picture of Tony and her in Paris was sticking out the side pouch. "I know my team. They will pursue them. And Tony will come to find me. Or I will find him. Trust me." Ziva looked back at Ayala. The fire from her house was turning her friend's short black hair red in the night. "Will you do this for me?"

Ayala looked pained, but she nodded. "Yes."

A wave of relief washed over Ziva. "Thank you." Then she looked down into Tali's face, wet and red from crying, and she felt her throat tighten so much that it hurt. " _Tateleh_ , you are going to go with Aunt Ayala now, okay? You are going to see your _abba_. You will stay with him for a while, and then we will all be together."

Tali was still hiccuping. She pointed towards Tony's face on the picture that was sticking out of the bag. " _Abba_?"

Ziva could barely speak through the sobs building up in her chest. "Yes, Tali. You and I will be apart for a little while, but we will be back together soon." She pulled Tali to her chest again and pressed her face in her daughter's neck. "I love you," she whispered. " _Ima_ loves you more than anything. Do not forget." She stood up, still holding Tali, and Ayala followed her lead. Ziva could barely see through the tears but she gave her daughter to Ayala, who had just slung the bag over her back. Ayala cuddled Tali gently, murmuring reassurances in her ear. " _Go_ ," Ziva said. She pressed a kiss to the top of Tali's head, told her daughter that her _ima_ loves her one last time, and sprinted off into the night.

 ****PRESENT DAY****

Tony is in a hotel room in Paris, leaning against the wall that is painted some impersonal, unremarkable shade of gray-blue, staring at the art that is hanging on the wall – some meaningless abstract art with red, yellow, and black shapes. The thick comforter atop the bed is quilted with different shades of blue and gray, forming wave patterns to imitate the ocean. He hates hotels. He hates that the designers try to decorate, try to make their rooms feel like home, when everyone knows it's just a place to rest your head on the way to a more important destination. For some reason, the idea that whoever decorated the hotel room thought that some absurd piece of art and pretty decorations would make him feel at home makes him angry. He does not feel at home. Half of his home is dead. The other half is cradled in his arms, not knowing that her mother is gone forever.

 _Or is she_? Tony clenches his jaw to try and swallow down the pain. He almost can't bring himself to hope. He found nothing in Israel – not in the remains of the farmhouse, not in the orchard where he'd told Ziva he would fight for her and meant it with every fiber of his soul, not even with the help of Mossad. And so Tony took Tali to Paris, trying to tell himself that the picture of him and Ziva on the motorbike had been some sort of sign from her, telling him that she's alive and waiting for him and Tali.

But is it a sign from her? Or is he just delusional? Tony doesn't know.

"Tony?" A voice pulls him from his mental torment.

A woman's voice.

... _Her_ voice?

Tali has her tiny head curled against his neck, sleeping peacefully, and it takes him a lot of effort to not react in a manner that will wake her. Despite his previous hope that Ziva is still alive, he tells himself that it's not her on the other side of the door. He can't take it. His heart has broken enough times in the past week and he can't afford for it to break another time if his last hope is extinguished in this damn Paris hotel room.

"Tony? Are you there?" The voice comes again.

He tries to steady himself, to match his jagged breathing to Tali's even, peaceful breaths, as he walks towards the door.

He stops for a moment, his hand on the doorknob, preparing himself for disappointment, for some strange woman to be on the other side that sounds like her but isn't her, to send her away without asking how she might know his name. He tries to force himself to believe anything else but that Ziva is alive. He doesn't dare hope. He couldn't bear to have it ripped away from him again.

He turns the knob and opens the door.

And there she is.

Ziva.

Alive, whole, breathing, with flushed cheeks and eyes rimmed in red.

He is speechless.

He stares at her, not daring to believe, not for one second, that he could be this lucky. That Ziva survived.

Neither of them speak.

Tali must have sensed Tony's tension, because she stirs, opens sleepy eyes and turns her head.

"Ima!" Tali is quickly fully awake and reaches her arms towards Ziva. Tony is still a statue, staring, as Ziva gently takes her daughter from his arms and kisses her cheek.

" _Tateleh,_ " Ziva speaks again, and her whispered endearment to her daughter – _their daughter_ – is so filled with love and relief that it is the final push that it takes for Tony to believe what is in front of him.

Ziva holds Tali close, but her eyes are on Tony.

"Hello, Tony. May I –?"

Her question stops as Tony's hands suddenly reach forward, seeming to act of their own accord, and he cups her face in his hands.

" _Ziva_?"

There is so much disbelief, so much wonder and hope and raw emotion in his voice that he sees her eyes fill with tears as he speaks her name.

Her cheeks are warm to the touch, and Tony's pinky fingers brush her pulse points on her throat as his eyes drill into her, and he feels her blood pumping. She is alive. She is alive.

She closes her eyes, and her voice shakes as she finishes her earlier question - "May I come in?"

Tony steps away from her, taking his hands from her warm cheeks – _she is alive, she is alive_ – and allowing her to move into the room.

She walks to the stroller nestled by the side of the hotel bed and gently settles Tali into it – she must have fallen back asleep in her mother's embrace – and then turns to face Tony.

"Tony, I am so sor–"

Once again, her words are cut off, and once again, it is because of Tony's actions. His feet are unsteady but he crosses towards Ziva quickly and nearly crushes her in an embrace.

He buries his face in her hair, and it smells like shea butter and jasmine and Ziva, and not like smoke and fire and ashes, and he feels his shoulders shake as he sobs. She is crying too, he feels her uneven breath against his shoulder.

"You're alive." Tony makes no move to pull away from Ziva, and he whispers what was the deepest wish buried in his heart, the hope that he had refused to voice, into her hair. "You're alive. You survived."

Tony feels Ziva's chest hitch against his as she lets out a strangled laugh. "Of course I did. I am a ninja." He smiles into her neck. She falls so easily back into their old banter that's almost as if nothing has changed.

Almost. But then he opens his eyes and sees Tali sleeping in her stroller, and he pulls away from Ziva just enough so he can look down into her earnest face.

"We have a daughter," he says, stating the obvious.

Ziva looks down, not meeting his eyes. "Tony, I am so sorry. Not telling you about Tali is the biggest mistake of my life."

"Why didn't you?" Tony sees the pain written on her face but he still asks. He has to know.

"For several reasons… they seemed so logical at the time. And then she was born and I wanted to call you, but did not know what to say, and then it seemed like it was too late..." her voice trails off and he hears her breath hitch. Suddenly, it doesn't matter right now.

"Nevermind." Tony presses his forehead to Ziva's. "All that matters now is that you're alive."

"And we are together," she says. "Tali has met her _abba_."

"Ziva, she's perfect."

Ziva smiles at him, a wobbly smile that might dissolve into tears at any moment. "She has your eyes."

"And your smile," he says.

"Tony..." she pulls back from him suddenly. "I know we have things to work through, and that you are still in shock, but I have to ask what I should have asked you two years ago."

"What's that?"

Ziva takes a deep breath and looks him straight in the eyes. Tony feels her shaking, her hands still on his shoulders. "Will you be a family with us?"

"I already am," he tells her, and then he kisses her. Tony is so filled with emotion, so overcome with relief and love, that the only coherent thought that forms in his head is that maybe that piece of art hanging above the bed and the blue-gray walls and bedspread aren't so bad after all.

 **AN:** **That's all, folks. For now, anyways.** **I'm gonna most likely start binge-watching NCIS again so I might come back and change up some things to make Tony and Ziva more in character. I hadn't watched an episode of NCIS since like 2012 because I'm the literal worst.** **Apologies for any errors. Also** _ **ima**_ **,** _ **abba**_ **, and** _ **tateleh**_ **are the only Hebrew words I know (and only from reading other fanfics lololol) and I don't trust Google translate, otherwise I would have added more Hebrew. Feel free to leave a review if it strikes your fancy. Thanks for reading my word-vomit** **.**


End file.
